


Ropes Don't Stop You from Falling

by TeaParade



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Circus!AU, F/M, M/M, Some Swearing, Trapeze Artist Lance, acrobat!Lance, fair warning I haven't seen the movie yet, klance, knife thrower!Keith, the greatest showman!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaParade/pseuds/TeaParade
Summary: Keith needs this job. Lancelikesthis job. Shiro's just here to support Keith.Not even the strongest silks and ropes can save Keith when he falls head over heels for the trapeze artist who takes him by surprise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Suh y'all I haven't actually seen the movie yet
> 
>  
> 
>  **NOTE:** I know literally nothing about acrobatics so if something sounds inaccurate, that's probably because it is! (It was pointed out to me that silks are... actually not that difficult, especially compared to aerial straps. But fiction amirite???)  
>  Sooo yeah, I might fix that, but I also might not...  
>  Anyway, enjoy m'dudes

 

The job was Shiro’s idea.

 

Now they stood in the musty, straw-covered space that happened to be the backstage area for the up-and-coming “Grand Traveling Museum, Menagerie, and Hippodrome.” Which was just a fancy way of saying “Place where strange people and strange animals put on a show for the paying public.”

 _Paying,_ that was they key word here. Keith and Shiro… well, they needed money. Pretty badly. Their last job had been well past horrible, falling right into the “hellish” category - a job involving a butcher’s shop and some questionably legal goings-on (don’t ask). But long story short, they were broke.

So here they were, ready to beg for a job.

Coran H.W. Smythe, i.e. founder and manager of the traveling museum (a “circus,” it was called), had become a legend in the public’s eye, both as a showman and as a conman. Mostly the latter. That didn’t stop people from attending his shows.

Keith didn’t care if the man had been a murderer before starting up this business, all he needed was a job.

As soon as Shiro and Keith passed through the curtains, they were greeted by a sea of unique and curious faces. A couple people stared. Some whispered and gave them leery looks. Most didn’t react, keeping to themselves as they fixed their makeup or fitted themselves for costumes. A couple men eyed them and stretched their arms behind their heads, obviously trying to assert dominance. With a fraction more tension in his gut, Keith steeled himself and pushed forward, through the small crowd of people who were clearly preparing for the show, which was scheduled to begin in about thirty minutes.

With any luck, They would find Mr. Smythe in time.

Keith felt a hand on his shoulder.

When he looked around, Keith found Shiro smiling a small smile for him. Encouraging.

"Relax," was all he said.

Shiro was the only warmth Keith had been able to find in the past ten years or so, in the midst of cold and dull and angry and inconvenienced people. Shiro was also the closest thing Keith had ever had to family. He was _always_ there for Keith, from the time when Keith ran away from the orphanage, to the soured moment when he was kicked to the curb after mucking up a paper errand- one that had led to a fight in the street and a black eye. To the moments when they had to sleep in shelters because no one else could take them in for the night, and to the moment when neither of them could take anymore of the job at the butcher’s.

If they could live through all of that, surely they could push just a little more. They could make it. They could do more than survive, they could actually make a life for themselves.

Patting the set of knives hidden at his hip - one of the few things he carried with him and cared for like they were living things - Keith took a deep breath and nodded to his adoptive brother. They were gonna be fine. Just fine.

 

* * *

 

 

He got the job.

Both of them got jobs, actually, and Mr. Smythe - who preferred to be addressed as "just Coran, if you please!" - was shaping up to be incredibly kind despite the rumors. Keith couldn’t have been more relieved.

The jobs weren’t too bad.

Shiro, who had a way with animals, was assigned to be one of the handlers in between acts - keeping the animals from getting riled up and all that. Coran had been polite enough not to ask about Shiro's prosthetic arm, and Keith also noted that none of the performers had pointed it out earlier, either. Maybe they'd thought that Shiro already fit in with them. Different but strong. An outcast, but capable of fighting for himself.

With not much time before the show began, Keith hadn’t exactly been able to show off the one skill he most prided himself on. But he planned on proving himself just after the show ended, he was set on that. Not that he didn’t _appreciate_ being put on costume duty... but for godssakes, he was good with a knife and he was going to prove himself for once in his life, prove that he was _good_ at something.

For now, though? He was gonna have to wait. Courtesy of Coran, both Keith and Shiro had been invited up to the best seats in the house to get a good look at just who and what they were working with.

The first thing Keith took in was the sheer size of the place. A tent, and a big one at that, with sturdy supports and a ring surrounded on all sides by seats like an amphitheatre. 

Coran had just finished opening the show when the audience started the first round of thunderous applause. In moments he'd returned to sit with Keith and Shiro. The lights dimmed. Spotlights flared to life.

Now for the _real_ fun.

In a matter of minutes the ring was suddenly brought to life. The smell of popcorn, peanuts and burnt sugar wafted through the air. It was quite an experience, and the show hadn't even begun.

Ladies whispered behind silk fans. Men lit their fancy cigars up in their expensive seats while the layfolk down below munched on popcorn and made noises that began to sound more and more impatient.

Finally, the first curtain opened, making way for performer number one.

 

Up first was the tightrope act. Keith hadn't even  _noticed_ the rope cutting through the ring until the lights pointed down. The performer grinned and took her first step.

She was good, Keith thought, as part of the audience roared with approval while the other half made other (obnoxious) noises, possibly to scare her off the rope. It didn't work. The woman carried on with her chin up and shoulders back, strong and sure.

The most impressive part was how the woman stayed on the rope when she looked so well-muscled, if not a bit top-heavy, built more for fighting or displays of strength than for balancing on such a thin piece of rope. But she pulled it off like she'd been born to do it. When the woman finally made it to the other end of the tent and gave the audience a bow, the next act was already beginning.

A lion bounded into the middle of the ring, followed closely by a man in a tall hat, a monocle over one eye, and a nasty-looking whip in his hand. Some of the women in the audience were audible in their combination of fear and delight.

The act was short, only about five minutes long, but Keith had never had the stomach for animal cruelty - which was what this was. The poor lion looked malnourished and scared, but when it lashed out at the tamer out of fear, the audience reacted with screams and jeers. Like it was the _animal_ in the wrong instead of the humans who put it there.

Keith was gonna have to have a word with Coran after all this was over. Finally, the lion tamer and one cowering lion were led out of the ring. Keith frowned after them.

The spotlights dimmed except for one.

The audience started to whisper when nothing happened. At first.

Keith and Shiro watched. Why did it feel like they were holding their breath?

Then long bolts of silk descended from the roof of the enormous tent. Keith and the rest of the audience watched as a set of ropes attached to horizontal bars appeared from out of nowhere. So it was another acrobatics act, then.

The only thing that made Keith a little nervous was the fact that there was no net to catch the performers, should something go wrong. Shouldn't there be a net? Perhaps that was another concern to bring up later.

From a hidden platform off in a shadowy corner of the tent stepped the first performer, reaching out to cling to one of the silks, blue and rippling when her hand touched it. She was absolutely stunning, the performer, and if Keith had been so inclined towards women he definitely would’ve been head over heels already.

There was no doubt that this woman was confident in herself, both in looks and in skill. A shock of silvery-white hair swooped back in an elegant twist, navy leotard that hugged a dancer’s frame, and shimmering makeup that only enhanced her dark skin, blue eyes and careful smile. It was all too clear that there would be plenty of men paying to come back, judging by the reactions from the audience.

Keith felt Shiro gently elbow him in the side. He looked around.

“What?”

Shiro nodded inconspicuously in the woman’s direction. His eyes were trained on her, not Keith. Keith snorted. “What, don’t tell me you like her already?”

Shrugging, Shiro cracked a smile. “Uhh, possibly?”

“You haven’t even spoken to her yet!”

“You’re forgetting that we _work_ here now,” Shiro murmured as the woman gripped the swath of silk tightly and pulled her body up, leaving the platform behind. “I’ll try to talk to her as soon as the show’s over.”

Then the woman took a running leap and _flew._

Shiro - along with the rest of the audience - gasped. Enraptured, everyone watched as the silks performer swung out into the middle of the ring at least ten feet in the air, swinging a leg out and bending the other one in towards herself like a ballerina prepping for a mid-air pirouette. Then she began to spin, around and around, faster and faster until Keith began to feel dizzy just watching her. Everyone else went nuts. From a quick glance sideways, Keith caught Shiro’s jaw nearly hitting the floor, and he laughed.

“You. Are hopeless,” he snickered as he joined in with the audience’s applause.

“Shut up,” Shiro muttered back, although it was halfhearted. Poor guy was already long gone as he stared like a man in love at the woman swinging around effortlessly from the hanging silks. He was one of the last to stop clapping.

 

But then...the _next_ performer made his appearance. And Keith could no longer find issue with how Shiro had reacted.

Because the man who emerged from the opposite corner of the tent, at least twenty feet in the air on a platform placed out of sight, was not what Keith had been expecting. Not at all.

Another woman, maybe that was what Keith had been expecting. Or some sturdy older man to complete the clichéd male-female pair for an act like this. But the man with tanned skin and chestnut hair, grinning so confidently it should have been illegal, was not that person at all.

Lithe and what some might call slender, he also had the body of a dancer, muscles toned and movements graceful. Calculated. His unitard was navy blue to match the woman’s, except instead of a skirt he had short trousers that ended right where his thighs began. Keith could feel his face flushing as the man reached out to grab hold of the trapeze above his head.

Was he imagining things? Or was Keith hearing music?

Whether or not it was real, the music in Keith’s ears swelled as the performer gripped the bar of the trapeze firmly with both hands and leapt into the air, swinging his legs up behind him like he was made of rubber.

Another delighted gasp from the audience erupted when the man flew out into the middle of the ring, threw both of his legs up in front of him with so much strength and yet so much grace - then brought them all the way over as he let go of the bar, flipped backwards, and just before he could fall to his death, caught the next bar hanging from the ceiling.

Keith exhaled. Damn, how long had he been holding his breath?

He took another quick glance to his left and was annoyed to find Shiro grinning back. His brother raised an eyebrow suggestively when he saw Keith glancing back.

“What’s the matter, Keith?” he asked innocently.

Keith rolled his eyes and set his gaze firmly back on the (admittedly stunning) male performer, still flying through the air, even higher than the woman, like he’d been born a bird in his past life.

He heard Shiro chuckle. “ _Now_ who’s hopeless?” Keith heard him say.

He ignored him. And kept watching the man on the trapeze as he performed his heart out. The guy looked like he was having the time of his life up there, up in the air with nothing but his own training and strength to keep him from plummeting to the solid ground below.

And not far below, the woman was still swinging from the silks, doing flips and hanging upside down, hands-free as she waved at the audience to make some noise. Which they absolutely did. Before they could make too much noise, though, the woman was already making her way to the back of the ring. Once there, she did one last impressive flip in the air, kicked her legs for momentum, and swung herself out of sight. Probably backstage. Not even a bow. But a dramatic exit nonetheless.

Meanwhile, the male performer was still going strong.

Keith couldn’t couldn’t take his eyes off him for a damn second. One moment, the guy was doing flips, the next he was leaping from the trapeze to the big metal hoop hanging from the ceiling smack in the center of the ring. His legs went through so that he was sitting with his legs hanging out one side, arms resting over the top before he was shaping his body around it. Hardly giving himself time to pause he posed for the audience, who were positively eating it up.

 _Then,_ dear _god,_ Keith watched in awe as the man grasped the top of the hoop, lifted himself with just his hands for support, and brought his legs out and up until he was completely upside down. More cheers erupted from the stands but this guy certainly wasn't finished yet. A leg hooked around the rope that held both him and the hoop up in the air, steadying himself.

And then, _and then,_ Keith’s jaw really did feel like it hit the floor when the man let his legs fall into a perfect split.

Keith was fucking done for.

“So how’re you enjoying the show, Keith?” Coran asked, popping up behind him.

Keith leapt a good foot in the air.

“I-I... I'm sorry??”

“Everything all right, Keith?” Shiro butted in. Keith glared, but nodded reassuringly to Coran.

“The show is amazing so far, Coran,” he answered, bobbing his head in confirmation. “Really incredible, thanks. Just one question ahh… wh-who is he?” he jerked his head in the direction of the man currently still holding his split. Didn’t that hurt? Keith wondered.

“This one here?” Coran motioned towards the man in question. “Why that’s Lance McClain! He’s one of our best, you can be sure of it. Him and Allura are a brilliant pair.”

“Allura?” Shiro interrupted again. Coran nodded.

“Our lovely silks artist, yes.”

“Oh.”

Keith shot Shiro a smug look over his shoulder. Shiro made a face back and stuck out his tongue like a child. Keith smirked.

“I’m glad to hear that the two of you like what you see, because you’ll be working with these people first thing in the morning!” Coran clapped a hand cheerfully on Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll be backstage waiting to close out the show, but you two feel free to stay and watch. I wouldn’t want you to miss anything!”

That, Keith thought, was probably the most generous thing Coran had done out of everything. Stay to watch the rest of the show? Keith would gladly.

And as he turned to look back around, Keith found that the man with the confident smile and lithe limbs had made his way to the other end of the ring, opposite the side that Keith and Shiro sat. He was prepped with one hand on yet another trapeze bar, the other around a rope that kept the bar from swinging out. He faced the crowd while he just stood there. But then he flashed his loving audience one more sultry smile and a wink, right before he flipped up, hooking his legs over the bar so that he was once again upside down- and let go of the rope.

As the spotlight followed, the man - Lance - sailed through the air by the power of gravity alone. He continued, closer and closer to the box seats, and Keith felt himself stand from his seat yet completely unable to control his own actions. All he could do was watch.

The man on the trapeze flew towards him.  _Directly_ towards him. Keith watched. Stared.

It was as though the world had slowed itself way, way down.

 

Like he was trying to move through water instead of real time, Keith watched as Lance McClain flew, faster and faster until gravity slowed him down. Until he was just feet away from the box seats, lifting his head as he hovered in the moments before gravity could tear him away again, arms gracefully extended to either side, and when he _did_ look up, bright blue eyes locked tight with Keith’s. A breath. A pause.

The world had well and truly stilled.

The music stopped.

Silence filled the tent save for the blood rushing in Keith's ears while he watched with his heart in his throat, struck dumb from the moment those eyes caught his own. There was no time to breathe. Just to look. 

 

But then time sped up again and the man was swinging away, leaving Keith to stare after him like he’d been hit with a bullet. Unsure how to process.

One thing was certain: no rope or silk or trapeze stunt could have saved Keith from falling quite as hard as he did.

 

 

* * *

 

It was their last night sleeping in the shelter. For good this time, they both hoped.

Looking around the dingy, dusty room when he woke up early, Keith knew he wasn't going to miss this. Not even a little.

 

The ring was dark the next morning when Coran led them through the backstage area and out into the center of the ring.

It looked so different without all the spotlights, the seats empty of a cheering crowd. Instead of peanuts and candy floss it smelled like fresh paint and sawdust, and sweat. And potential.

“This is where the magic happens,” Coran said, gesturing grandly to their surroundings, to the ring and the fenced off area that separated magic from reality and audience from performer. “Keith, Shiro, before you two get started I’d like you to meet some of the members of my family.”

 _Family._ Keith marveled at the thought.

“Boys, I present to you Smythe & Co.’s best and brightest! Come on out, you four!”

Through a hidden door off to the side, four people strolled out into the ring, until they were just a few yards away from Keith, Shiro and Coran. All of them looked on with widely varying expressions. Mostly, they looked very... judgmental. Like they were sizing up their new coworkers.

Honestly? They probably were.

Keith’s heart thudded a bit harder in his chest when he saw that the trapeze artist from the night before - Lance McClain, Keith remembered - was part of the welcoming committee.

When the man glanced over and spotted Keith staring, he raised an eyebrow and threw him a grin that may or may not have been intended as suggestive. Keith quickly looked away, swallowing. _Real smooth there, Keith,_ he thought irritably to himself.

“Folks, meet the newest members of our crew!” Coran announced, clapping gloved hands together. He lacked a top hat today, since they weren’t doing a show right now, but his tailcoat certainly added an extra flair. He carried on. “This here is Keith, our newest on costume duty.”

A snort came from one of the performers, but it was abruptly cut off.

When Keith looked over, he was sure he caught sight of Lance holding back a childish grin. He would’ve glared had the others not been looking his way, too.

“And this is Shiro. He’ll be our new animal handler, now that Rax has gone off to follow his own dreams.”

“Yeah, good riddance,” one of the other performers muttered softly. It was the second out of the two men present, a big guy with a yellow bandana tied around his head and muscles that looked like they could crush boulders. Keith recognized him as the guy from last night who’d thrown around anvils as part of his act. Keith was already a little afraid of him.

“Pay no mind,” Coran assured Keith. “Boys, this is Hunk, one of the strongmen in our big happy family.”

The man, Hunk, flashed them a warm smile and a wave, surprising Keith. "Hey!" he said cheerfully. "If you ever need a hot meal or some fresh baked cookies, come to me."

With a small but pleasant wave of surprise, Keith smiled back. "Thanks," he said. "That's... that's really nice." 

Hunk nodded and shot him a thumbs up.

“And this is Allura,” Coran swept a hand towards the beautiful woman with the silvery hair, taller than Keith had expected now that she was on the ground, but she smiled a friendly smile and gave a little wave their way. Keith wasn’t looking, but he knew Shiro was probably the color of a ripe tomato. “Allura is our finest silks artist around. And this is Pidge,” Coran poked a thumb at the smallest of the bunch, a kid in comparison to the others. Glasses, a short puff of hair, and a surly expression.

“Hey,” she said dully, waving a very awkward, forced wave. “I don’t actually perform that much. Can I leave now?” she asked, turning to Coran for an answer.

“No no, not quite,” Coran replied, chuckling when the kid crossed her arms and made a face like she’d swallowed something rotten. “Pidge is our lighting specialist around here. She also does a small bit of acrobatics and tumbling, but she prefers to stick to the shadows. Right, Pidge?”

“You bet, now can I _please_ get back to my job? The spotlights last night were all weird and I think Rover peed on some of our equipment. I should probably-”

“Say no more, say no more!” Coran waved his hands in front of him. “Go do what you need to do, I’ll just be giving the boys a tour in a little while.”

Not waiting to hear the rest of it, the girl called Pidge bolted for the door she had come through and disappeared. Keith watched her go with an eyebrow raised. He liked the kid already.

But right now what he was most focused on was getting Coran to consider him. As a performer. As in, soon.

Putting a hand to his hip, he slyly felt to make sure the pack with his throwing knives were still secure. All he needed was a target, and he could prove himself, no problem.

“And of course,” Coran continued (honestly, the man was just shy of obnoxious - apparently he talked this way even when he wasn’t announcing the next act for a cheering audience), “our best trapeze artist and lady’s man, Lance McClain!”

Now Keith had no choice but to look his way.

Bright blue eyes turned on him. 

Two pairs of eyes locked.

There was a flash of recognition when Lance met Keith’s gaze. Blue eyes widened for just a fraction of a second before Lance blinked and pressed his lips together. He looked a little confused. Possibly surprised, although he appeared to get over it mighty quick. 

“Nice to meet you,” Lance said, grinning a cocky grin when Keith looked over again, shooting a finger gun towards him, then at Shiro. “S’been a while since we had any new members. If you ever wanna have some fun in the air, I could always show ya a few moves. Just putting that out there.” He winked.

At Shiro. Not at Keith.

That was odd. Was he... _flirting?_

What had Keith the most wasn’t that the guy was flirting, but that he was clearly aiming it at _Shiro_ .

He was doing that on _purpose_.

For some inexplicable reason, Keith knew that this Lance guy was trying to get under his skin. He _knew_ it. “We should be fine, thanks,” Keith all but growled back.

Looking less startled and more amused, Lance cocked an eyebrow Keith’s way and his grin spread even wider. “Oh yeah? You sure about that? I think you’d make one hell of an acrobat, if you don’t mind me saying so.” The look he gave Keith then, the way his eyes scanned up and down, had Keith feeling warm all over. He needed to get a hold of himself. 

“So what’s your act?” Lance asked.

Now it was Keith's turn to be confused. “Act?” he asked. “I… I don’t have one?”

Lance _huh’_ ed and crossed his arms. “Everyone’s got an act.”

“Now folks, we do have a lot to get done today so-” Coran was interrupted when Keith bodily faced Lance, a look of pure fire and determination in his eyes. He was sure that everyone was staring at him now, but it didn't matter.

“Actually, I would _love_ to perform my own act,” he said challengingly. Keith whipped his head from Lance to Coran, who blinked in surprise.

“Keith?” he asked. “What’s this now?”

Keith took a deep breath in through his nose. He _knew_   Shiro was going to kill him for this.

It didn’t matter. He had more reason than ever to prove himself now.

“I can perform, Coran. I can bring you an act that you might not have yet and I can show you.”

“So you do have an act?” Lance asked with his arms still stubbornly crossed, staring Keith down.

Keith stared right back. “Sure do,” he said. “And if everyone else would just back up, I can show you.”

 

* * *

 

Lance came from a big family of acrobats.

 

Mostly trapeze and tightropes, and Lance took to the life like a fish to water.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much business to be found in that sort of performing. Not when you needed to put food on the table.

When Coran approached Lance at the underground theatre where the shadier sorts went to gamble and drink and gawk at dancers, Lance couldn’t say no. It was hardly a question. He accepted the job, and he proved himself well within his first few weeks working with the people that he now called his second family. Bringing money home for his family was easier. A happy life wasn't _impossible_ for them anymore.

His act was a hit from the get-go. The audiences loved Lance, couldn't get enough of him. Coran would never say so aloud, but Lance knew that he was a big part of the reason why tickets sold out so quickly. Him and Allura.

Damn, and they would’ve made the most gorgeous pair - if Allura had actually felt that way about him.

But as it turned out, Allura was more of his annoying big sister, the kind who yelled at him until he got a new move right, but who would definitely protect him with her life if she had to. They were family. All of them were.

So when this guy named Keith, with his shock of black hair and his pretty face and handsome jawline, invaded his space and claimed he could give them an act worthy of ticket sales… well, Lance wasn’t buying it. A good act took _work._ Lance knew that better than anyone.

This guy, some stranger with lovely eyes who thought he could just do whatever he wanted, had just gone and made himself a rivalry.

“So what _is_ this act, Keith?” Coran asked, raising a stern eyebrow. Lance knew that look. It was Coran’s, _Oh, so you think you’ve got what it takes?_ Look. A look that came off as harmless unless you knew better. Keith was about to be thrown on the chopping block. If he failed, he could kiss this job goodbye.

Lance actually felt a little sorry for him.

“Well go ahead,” Lance said, confident as he motioned for this Keith guy to get on with it already.

Keith shot him a dangerous look, but Lance took it in stride. This guy looked _damn_ good when he was angry. Lance could appreciate that.

“Fine,” Keith spat, before he turned to face the rest of them. “Does anyone have something flat? A piece of plywood or a playing card or something? I need a target.”

“A _target?”_ Hunk piped up. He looked nervous. “What exactly is this act?”

Gingerly, Keith reached to his left hip and pulled his jacket up, exposing a small leather pack that was attached to his belt. As Lance and the others watched, he flipped open the pack, reached in, and when he brought out his hand there were three small knives gleaming in his palm. They were small, stiletto thin, and looked deadly.

Now he had their attention.

“You’re not suggesting a knife throwing act?” Allura asked him. When Keith looked at her, his face set and hard as steel, he nodded.

“Well then…” Coran murmured. A beat, before he continued, “Someone fetch the target from props. Let’s see what can be done with you, Keith. I hope you know what you're doing.”

Keith set his jaw and gave a quick nod.

 

Hunk was the one to run and get the target.

It wasn’t too big, just a wooden circle with a red dot in the middle. The target itself spanned about a yard across, and when it was set on a stand the top of it reached maybe six feet.

“Thanks,” Keith said, offering Hunk a small smile for the trouble. Lance watched while he fingered one of the knives delicately. “Now I’m gonna need a volunteer.”

“ _Keith,”_ Shiro warned, but Keith wasn’t listening. He _knew_ what he was doing.

“One volunteer’s all I’m asking,” Keith repeated. Five dumbstruck faces answered him.

Lance was a little shocked. A _volunteer?_ What kind of act was this, anyway?

But it sounded like a challenge. For reasons Lance couldn’t place, he stepped forward. It was perfectly clear; He was volunteering.

All Keith did was nod, very serious. “Okay,” he said. “Great. Lance, right?”

Either Allura or Hunk snickered. Lance did his best to ignore them as he rolled his eyes. “You know it, sweetheart,” he fired back.

Lance got a small amount of satisfaction from watching how Keith’s cheeks took on the slightest blush.

“Lance,” Keith said. He sounded like he was trying not to grit his teeth, “I need you to go and stand in front of that target.”

“Hold on a sec, _what?!”_ Nevermind, _now_ Lance was nervous.

It was Keith’s turn to grin. “You heard me.” He gestured with one of the knives over to the propped up target in question. The ring was silent as a tomb. The tension was so thick in the air you couldn’t cut it with all three of Keith’s special throwing knives. He obviously had his own flare for dramatics. “You already volunteered," he said smugly, "No taking it back." Then he cocked his head, lips quirking in a self-righteous smile. "Target. Now.”

Stubborn but knowing it was too late to back out now, Lance sauntered over to the target, turned to face his tiny audience, and stood up to his full height. Practically the same height as the target.

Perfectly, perfectly still he stood. Was he sweating? He sure hoped not. If he could swing his body around in the air in front of hundreds of people, he could do this, too. And he would not be made a fool of.

“All right,” Keith said. “Don’t move.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, sweetheart,” Lance muttered, although he did what he was told.

There was a beat of pure silence that hung in the air. The ring was eerily silent and too dark, but light enough to see Lance’s face when Keith raised the first knife.

_One._

_Two…_

_Three-_

 

 **_Thwack_ ** _!_

 

The first knife landed cleanly. Lance could feel the thunk of metal in wood just above his head.

Shit, had he closed his eyes? He nervously cracked them open -

Just in time to watch as two more sailed in quick succession towards him at a deadly speed. It took everything in him not to let out a squeak of terror.

 

**_Thud-Thud!_ **

 

They landed without giving Lance so much as a scratch.

And just like that, it was over.

When he twisted his neck to get a good look, Lance found a gleaming blade buried deep in the target, one on either side of his neck. It'd been close.

Maybe Keith wasn't quite as terrible as Lance had been giving him credit for. Still, he'd stick with a nice, friendly rivalry at least for a little while - wouldn't want Keith to get too comfortable too fast.

Breathing hard, he whipped his head around to stare at Keith. The  guy's face was a bit hard to read.

The others were clapping.

Even the other new guy, Shiro, was chuckling with pride.

Keith took the opportunity to approach the target and Lance. There was just the tiniest sliver of a smile creeping into his expression as he approached, so smug that Lance felt himself pouting back. In the closeness between them as Keith coolly reached past Lance to tug one of the knives from the splintered wood, he leaned forward and whispered, “Hey... you okay?”

Stunned, Lance could only nod. "Y-yeah... thanks."

Keith retrieved the other two knives and backed up, giving Lance some space to step away.

"that's a nice throwing arm you got there," Lance murmured, managing to salvage some of his old charm before he could look like a complete fool. "Maybe you can show me a few moves, some time."

Now Keith really did smile. "Only if you show me a few of yours," he responded with a quirk of his eyebrow. Lance wasn't too sure how to answer. Or how to keep his cool after that.

Luckily, Coran was the first to speak once the others finished clapping politely.

“Well! That was quite a show, Keith, well done!” he said. The tension had gone from the air, replaced with excitement. In a few long strides Coran was close enough to grab Keith by the shoulders as he beamed, his thick orange mustache curling upwards. “I think we’ve got ourselves an act! Lance, Keith, what do you say to being partners?”

The two in question whirled around at the same time.

“Partners?” Keith yelped.

“Us?” Lance added.

“Absolutely!” Coran looked downright ecstatic. "Of course, you'd still have your own act, Lance, but I really feel like you work perfectly for this one as well!" Lance could see that the man was already picturing a host of possibilities. “Whaddya say, boys?”

Blinking, Lance turned to where Keith stood just a foot away, his expression similar to what Lance was feeling.

Him and Keith? Partners? This guy was a cocky son of a bitch, and his whole personality screamed, ‘I’m better than you’ll ever be.” Team up with this guy? Coran must be crazy (well, he’d always been a little bit bonkers, but still).

But then Keith met Lance’s gaze again and he held it, wordless. His eyes were dark, almost purple, and so intense that they took Lance’s breath away.

Forget knives, Lance thought that his own heart might kill him first because shit, _shit,_ he was falling. He was spinning out of control, like one hand had lost its grip on the trapeze bar. He was falling. Hard.

Lance hadn’t fallen during one of his acts since he was _twelve_ for godssakes. So why now _,_ of all times? Just because this guy looked like everything right with the world? Because his eyes gave Lance chills down his spine when they locked with his? And lord, the look of pure concentration when he was chucking knives at him took Lance's breath away not so unlike the thrill of flying through the air and... and...

And funnily enough, this kind of falling didn’t hurt so bad.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a note: I hadn't actually planned on continuing this. However, some people in the comments have been wondering how this story is going to pan out, and now I'm starting to think that this should continue? I do want you guys to know that I already have a bunch of other projects that I'm working on, but if you're interested in reading another chapter or two, please let me know! I think I'd be down for that. but only if enough people are on board. Much love <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith won't let Lance get away. And try as he might, Lance can't keep Keith away from him. It only goes downhill from here, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I didn't really expect to have so many people on board for a second chapter! Congrats y'all, here it is <3
> 
>  
> 
> and lol the innuendos are strong in this one.

 

The two new guys had been working there for three weeks already, and Lance had begun to realize that Keith Kogane, knife thrower and pretty boy extraordinaire, was better at being a distraction than he was at helping out with costumes. It wasn’t like he had anything _else_ to do, besides prepping for his brand new act, but for some reason he was making it impossible for Lance to find him whenever he wanted to begin practices together. The sooner they got this over with the better, right?

Keith had insisted he wouldn’t be needing Lance much until they were closer to performance time. Apparently, all Keith needed was a target to practice with for now. Which left Lance to his own devices.

That was fine. Whatever, Lance thought. Keith had a stick shoved wayyy too far up his ass to be any fun, anyway. Did that mean he suddenly wasn’t as gorgeous as he had been the day they met? Hell no, but Lance would die before admitting it.

Keith had only helped Lance for one show - as a costumes assistant, not as a performer - and that was an experience all on its own.

 

Eight buttons ran down the back of Lance’s newest costume: a stretchy, sheer number with just enough opaque fabric to cover his ass, crotch, and chest. His back and his stomach, on the other hand, were covered thinly with a layer of glittery purple tulle. The shirt was sleeveless, showing off all the hard work Lance had put into all those muscles that kept him swinging from the trapeze with minimal effort. Lance liked it well enough to not complain once he realized it wasn’t blue. And the rest? Insanely short purple trousers like the ones from before, short enough to belong in a set of lady’s undergarments, along with sheer pantyhose underneath (for propriety’s sake, of course), and skin-toned shoes meant for ballerinas. Lance liked the shoes, although he preferred footbands more.

He felt Keith’s hands shake a couple times as they reached for the first button to quickly fasten it through the slit in the fabric, before moving on to the next one. Slowly, he worked to close the costume over Lance’s bared back. Warm breath ghosted over the skin, so light Lance might’ve imagined it, before more fabric closed over the second to last button.

Finally the silence became too much to bear.

“You alright back there, Samurai?” Lance asked in the hopes of lightening the tension a little bit. “You seem tense. Cat got your tongue or something?”

Apparently Keith didn’t do jokes. Or at least, he didn’t do Lance’s jokes. All he did was mumble something along the lines of, “M’fine, just hold still would you?” before the last button was done and the hands fell away.

Lance didn’t know why he’d been so disappointed to feel the touch leave as abruptly as it did. He wished the hands would linger a few seconds longer, touch him again, but then…

Right. The show. That was where he needed to be right now. Throwing a smile over his shoulder, Lance left Keith with a quick pat on the back and a wink for his troubles.

Keith just looked confused.

Lance was already climbing up to the platform by the time he realized he had just left Keith back there without another word. And he’d winked. Why? _Why_ was he still flirting? He knew better, didn’t he?

 

Everyone knew, but Lance better than anyone, that this would be completely unacceptable. The second he stepped out of the ring and out of the spotlight, into the harsh truth of the real world, it would end. And nothing had even begun.

Even if Keith _could_ have felt that way, there was no point. Lance would lose his job if anything were ever made public about…. Yeah.

They’d been born in the wrong century, he thought bitterly in the moments when Keith caught his eyes and stared a little too long in the dressing area. Thought the same, disheartening thought when Keith ran into him the one time they were both heading to speak with Coran, and ended up talking about animals and favorite kinds of candy and dumb things that killed the little time they had. The thought was especially strong when he’d caught just the briefest glimpse of Keith shrugging off his vest due to the summer heat, tucked into the shadows backstage before a show, and Lance wondered if it was truly the temperature in the tent that had his cheeks on fire or if that was just him. It had taken everything in him not to just push the man up against the closest flat surface and-

 

But he couldn’t do that, could he?

Right person. Wrong century.

He couldn’t help but think how unfair this whole thing was becoming. Keith was- well he was attractive and talented and so Lance’s _type._

Hunk, Allura and Pidge all knew, of course. About his… preferences. “Lady’s Man” wasn’t the only thing Lance was. Those three were the closest to him in the ring, his family through and through, and Lance could tell them anything, especially Hunk. But this thing he felt for Keith… Nobody could know. No one except him. Not that it could ever amount to anything, anyway.

But Lance could dream.

With any luck, the new guy with his fancy knives and perfect jaw would pull his head out of his _derriere_ just long enough to watch Lance perform his act tonight.

At least… he hoped so.

 

The applause from the act before his finally died town. Time to put on a show.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith watched as Lance, securely fitted into his purple getup, climbed up to the platform high above and waited to go on. His back was visible beneath the stretch of tulle and glitter, and it had Keith feeling like he’d swallowed his tongue. God, this was going to be so embarrassing. If Shiro or anyone else _ever_ found out about these developing… feelings, you could call them? Yeah, embarrassing was a good word. If anyone found out, he was done. Screwed over. Fired, probably.

It had him on edge. Most of all, though, it made him feel like he’d been born in the wrong century. Because Lance was one of the few people that actually made Keith feel warm and something akin to happy whenever they were near each other, no matter the context. Whether Lance was calling to him about practice times as they passed each other backstage in the pre-show chaos, or when Keith was just waiting around for something to do and Lance happened to be close enough to strike up a quick conversation.

Lance was just… good. He fit in Keith’s life whether he liked it or not, kind of like how a good trapeze act always had that moment when one performer would fling themselves through the air, only to be caught by their trusty partner. A fit that worked like a couple of puzzle pieces.

 

Right.

 

Wrong century. Right Person.

 

* * *

 

 

The show went off without a hitch, as usual. He was sure that Keith had been watching, although he’d hesitated to ask.

Lance did amazing in his sparkling purple number. The splits were fine, his flips seamless, and this time Allura had joined in for a few of the trapeze stunts. They worked well together, despite the fact that they bickered like siblings all the day long.

 

And speaking of-

“ _Point_ your _toes_ , Lance,” Allura snapped just as Lance began to zone out again.

He was thinking about Keith. Again. It wasn’t making him particularly productive today.

“What is wrong with you?” Allura kicked lightly at one of Lance’s outstretched legs. Lance quickly pointed his toes.

It was a practice day today. Lance had the floor for the next forty-five minutes, before Allura took the space over to practice her newest dance routine, and after that was an open slot that was free game for the first person there.

They were going to be switching it up for the next show. This time, Allura would be on the ground with a dance and contortion routine - another of her many talents. Bloody contortion. But the audience ate it up just like all the rest of her performances. People just liked Allura, period.

Meanwhile, Lance was about to get another shot at trying out the silks. Lance adored the silks- but he rarely got to use them. According to Allura, Lance was a “bloody showoff, for godssakes, you’re going to get yourself hurt if you keep pushing too hard.”

Every time Lance had attempted a routine on the silks it’d ended in a close call. But he’d been younger then. He had _experience_ now, come on!

Although, maybe he did need a little more training.

Which, naturally, was why Allura was making sure to kick his ass extra hard today.

“If you’re not strong enough for this, you’ll be on the ground in a matter of minutes,” Allura warned as Lance kept his legs spread in their split. “And with a broken leg, if you’re lucky enough not to be killed first.”

Wincing at the thought, Lance touched his nose to his knee and breathed a little deeper.

Today he sat in the middle of the dimly lit ring, both hands grabbing around his right foot as he held his front split. He remembered the days when this sort of thing used to hurt. Now, though, the stretch barely registered. He was born with rubber limbs, or at least that was what his parents told him. It still stung a little, to know they weren’t able to do what they loved like Lance could.

It was true that Coran had only been looking for one new act when he’d approached Lance all those years ago, but the rest of Lance’s family? His parents? Nope, not them. While Coran was generous, he could only afford to keep so many performers at a time.

Now Lance’s parents ran a bakery, his three younger siblings helped out where they could (although the oldest was only thirteen), and Lance?

Lance did his best because he _had_ to. But boy did he love the work.

He received another kick from Allura for the brief lapse in focus. “ _Ow,”_ he whined when Allura’s impeccably pointed toes caught his ankle. “Necessary much?”

“What did I just tell you to do?”

“Uhh…” Lance frowned, knowing he’d missed something. “Point my toes?”

“Wrong,” Allura’s brow furrowed as she glared back down at him, toned arms crossed over her chest. Lance wished he could look as good as her on any given day, not just when he was performing. Her loose, drawstring pants hung from her as prettily as any costume, and her hair was swept back in a ponytail that shouldn’t have been so elegant when you considered the frizz from all the work she’d been doing. It just… worked for her. Which totally wasn’t fair in Lance’s opinion. He didn’t think he looked nearly as good in his practice clothes- the tight, plain, black shorts and white undershirt. The shirt was too big, but it worked as long as he kept it tucked into the shorts. It allowed for plenty of freedom in his movements, at least.

Allura also insisted he wear skin-colored tights for all rehearsals. Something about looking “put-together” and staying accustomed to the feeling, for when they _had_ to wear pantyhose under their costumes.

“I told you to focus,” Allura muttered. She sounded like she was close to reaching her last nerve - never a good thing. “And if you’d been paying me any attention at all, you would have heard me say to relax with the split and go ahead backstage.” The bite in her voice softened when she continued, “I’d like you to go get Pidge. Tell her we’re ready to start on the silks.”

“Really?” Lance was elated. It certainly pulled him out of his daydreams, that was for sure. “Oh, hell yes!” He fumbled out of his split in the least graceful way possible, hopped to his feet, and gave Allura a little salute before jogging towards the backstage area. No doubt Pidge would be waiting, tinkering with lights or something while her little Jack Russell, Rover, was undoubtedly chewing on something he shouldn’t be chewing on. Lance didn’t mind the dog.

All he cared about was finding Pidge, working with the silks, and proving himself. For real, this time. No one was going to mess him up now, not even New Guy Keith Kogane.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith and Shiro shared a trailer with two other men.

One of them, a lanky guy who called himself Rolo, had a tumbling act, although his main focus was pyrotechnics. Apparently he specialized in juggling lit torches - an act that he shared with another performer called Nyma.

The other man, much more heavyset than Rolo, was one of the circus’s beloved clowns. His name was Perry.

Keith knew about clowns, but uh, the thought just creeped him out more than anything. Luckily it wasn’t like Perry just strutted around the trailer in full makeup all the damn time… but still. It was an odd act to be a part of. Keith had no idea why children thought clowns were so funny and entertaining, because he sure didn’t.

But then, he was just happy that he’d actually been _given_ an act.

No, not given. He’d _earned_ that act.

The only downside….well, could it really be called that? The only “catch” was having to partner up with Lance McClain.

But he did have to confess, the look on that guy’s face when the last two knives came flying toward him had been nothing short of priceless. Keith loved watching Lance’s expressions. He liked watching Lance in general, actually. It was one of the few things that made the costuming job bearable (and yes, he was still on costume duty. Figures that Coran wouldn’t let him have his own act without another catch).

But Lance… Lance was an expressive person. Keith was a sucker for people like that: People who were _honest_. People who didn’t hold back the way Keith always did.

But back to the trailer.

They were cramped quarters, and Keith could swear he smelled baby powder (talcum powder, actually) coming from Perry’s bunk above him. Crinkling his nose, he managed to crawl out of his own bunk, threw on his one spare shirt, grabbed his vest, and headed out of the trailer without waking the other two.

It was still pretty early, the sun just barely breaking through the night sky when he managed to stumble his way through the grounds, tall grass still damp from rain. He took in the sight of taller buildings towering off to one side. The city was awake as always, but Keith still felt half-asleep.

Shiro was already gone, probably off feeding one of the animals or something. He really hoped that the skinny lion from the lion tamer’s act was being looked after. Shiro had since caught wind of the poor thing’s situation and was doing his best to help. And he’d been appalled enough to speak with Coran about the situation, too - not that the tamer, Sendak, was being disciplined for it in any way.

Keith really did hope things would get better for the lion - Now all he had to do was ask about that whole lack-of-safety-net situation.

 

* * *

 

 

The tent was quiet, the entrance dark.

Keith wondered if anyone else was around this early in the morning.

 

The sight of Lance hanging from aerial silks was not what Keith had been expecting when he set foot in the tent.

Allura was there, yelling something from the sidelines. Whatever it was it didn’t sound good.

And sure enough, Lance did look like he was struggling with the silks. Keith thought it odd, considering he always looked so sure of himself during his performances on the trapeze. But yeah… Lance wasn’t looking amazing right now. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he looked a little off-balance, his arms a bit shaky while he held his pose. Keith had heard from someone that silks were especially tricky to work with. Even harder than aerial straps, which sounded increasingly fun the more Keith thought about it, but maybe he’d ask at a later time.

With either hand grasping a separate bolt of silk, Lance had managed to haul himself up in the air and flip upside down, legs pointed directly at the ceiling. After a split second had passed Keith saw him point his toes, too, and when he glanced back over at Allura she was looking rather pleased.

Then she caught sight of Keith, and the smile dropped.

“Oh, hello Keith,” she said, one eyebrow was raised. Lance wobbled in his pose and stuck his chin out, eyeing Keith as best he could from his compromising position in the air. “I’m sorry but you’re uh, a bit early. I have the floor right after Lance, we’ll probably be a little over an hour.” She flashed him an apologetic look. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah… yeah, I was just looking for Shiro.” He tore his gaze away from the picture of Lance hanging in the air with nothing but his upper body strength to keep him there.

The expression on Allura’s face changed in a heartbeat. “Oh!” she said, eyes crinkling kindly, “You’ll find him out back by the animal pen. It’s funny, I was _just_ talking with him not that long ago.”

Lance snorted from up in the air (and fumbled a little in the process). “ _Yeah_ she was,” he confirmed, with the mildest shade of laughter in his voice. Allura threw him a perfectly poisonous glare.

“Lance, if you would so kindly get down so I can show you the next move,” Allura snapped, bringing up her thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Sure thing princess.”

Lance happily twisted from his uncomfortable pose and carefully unraveled himself from the wound up fabric, slowly descending until his toes hit the floor. Much more graceful, now that he wasn’t upside down.

Keith still hadn’t moved from his spot.

Allura eyed him. “Keith?” she said. “Was there something else you needed?”

Keith looked from Lance, to Allura, then shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Thanks. I’ll just uh, be out back if you need me.”

Shooting himself in the metaphorical foot, Keith exited the tent, and did his best not to look back.

 

* * *

 

 

Allura was just finishing up when Lance spotted Keith slinking in through the back entrance.

“Hey!” he called over, waving at Keith. Keith startled, looking around.

Holding back a snort of laughter, Lance motioned for Keith to come over.

“I’m heading back to the trailers,” Allura announced, interrupting anything Keith was about to say in protest. “Lance, if you wouldn’t mind helping Pidge secure the pulleys and straps, that would be wonderful. Hello again, Keith,” she waved over when she spotted him, too. “Would you tell Shiro I said hello?”

Keith nodded, wondering why she would want to say hello to Shiro if they’d only just been talking a couple hours ago.

Then again, he _had_ been having some suspicions.

Whatever. Not his business.

As soon as Allura was gone, Lance let out a raucous bark of laughter. “Ohhh man, she’s got it _so_ bad,” he wheezed, leaning back where he sat on the floor, his arms behind him for support. He shot a grin Keith’s way. Keith had since moved from the back entrance to the very edge of the ring, hugging the front row of seats that were so often filled with paying audience members.

“I was just about to finish up rehearsing before I go and get Pidge,” Lance said, fiddling with his shirt and tucking a bit of the hem back into the tight shorts, which Keith was currently _not_ staring at. “I’ve got one or two tricks to perfect before I head back to get some shut-eye, you’re welcome to uh… I mean, you can hang around, if you want.” He looked up at the few aerial straps and ropes hanging from the ceiling, before zeroing back in on Keith as he gave a shrug. “But you don’t have to.”

With that, he hopped to his feet, lithe and graceful as ever.

Keith couldn’t help the wave of jealousy that came with watching someone so confident with his body, with the way he just moved like everything was part of a dance.

Keith considered the offer to stay.

What the hell? Shiro was already preoccupied and Keith had nothing better to do. What was the harm in staying to watch? Nothing wrong with supporting a fellow circus worker. “I guess I could, uh, hang around for a little while,” he said, scratching behind his ear while trying not to be completely awkward. “I don’t really have anywhere else to be, so I could. Um. Yeah.”

Lance grinned. “Nice,” he said, leaving Keith’s awkwardness to go unnoticed. “I like having an audience.”

Keith chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“What can I say? I was born to perform.” He gave his shoulders a healthy roll, before doing the same with his neck, casual and easy-breezy. “You know, you don’t _have_ to hang out in the seats like a total stranger,” Lance commented as he eyed Keith, still hanging around the sidelines. It was both funny and weird at the same time, how he clung to the shadows like his whole life depended on receiving as little attention as possible. Unless he was throwing knives, which was an entirely different side of Keith that Lance had yet to witness again.

“Uhh, where should I go then?” Keith asked.

With a grand flourish, Lance swept an arm out and did a flawless pirouette, motioning to the entire tent in one go. “Anywhere you want!” he said, “Like I said, don’t be a stranger.” He made the beckoning motion with one finger, quirking his lips in a more secretive smile than the one from before. “Step into the ring and watch the magic happen, my friend.”

Keith hesitated. But Lance’s suggestion was just a little too convincing. With some trepidation Keith headed for the nearest aisle where the seats and fencing parted, and he stepped through, into the ring. Dim light from the gas lamps placed around the higher balconies immediately hit him, and Lance watched the shadows melt away. Without thinking before speaking he remarked, “Damn, you look nice in low light.”

The look Keith shot him was a mixture of shock and hesitation.

Lance quickly backpedaled. “I just mean- um-” he stammered. Oh no, was he blushing? He hoped not. “I just meant, y’know, it’s easier to see where the hell you are when you’re not hiding in the wings all the time.”

“Oh… Gotcha.”

 _Get your act together, Lance,_ he chastised himself. He didn’t need to be made a fool of for a second time in front of Keith.

The aerial straps still dangled above. From where Keith was standing (still at the edge of the ring, but at least he was in the ring), he would have a much better view of the little intricacies that went into an art like this. Aerial acrobatics weren’t easy.

“Hey, can I show you something?”

Keith shrugged, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Yeah, sure.”

Lance didn’t need to be told twice. Looking up, he grabbed one of the stray ropes and gave a hard tug, the sound of something heavy being lifted from the other side of the ring (sandbags, maybe?) and in seconds he was being tossed into the air like the most graceful ragdoll Keith had ever seen.

Keith stared. He knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t be bothered to shut it again. Lance was swinging through the empty space above the floor of the circus ring, and when he’d finally reached a certain height just shy of the box seats, gravity began to pull him back down. He gave a _whoop,_ and held onto the rope as he traveled down, down, then out to the side when he didn’t let go of the rope. The thrill of it brought Keith back to that night.

The first time he’d watched Lance perform.

Lance’s feet hit the ground with a dull _thud_ but he didn’t stay there for long, making a running leap for the next thing available: a couple of the straps. Strong hands caught a strap each, and strong legs jerked forward as he caught himself, swinging with the force before he got himself under control, his core clearly doing some heavy work beneath the too-loose undershirt. It looked effortless from afar, but now that Keith was close enough to really see he noticed how Lance’s muscles strained, from the tips of his fingers to his toned biceps and triceps, hell, even the muscles in his neck and shoulders were noticeable from here.

With strength unlike anything Keith had ever seen, Lance managed to hoist himself up, his hands now level with his waist as they gripped the straps.

He could hear small but fast breaths coming from Lance. In the air, his legs pointed straight down with feet splayed like they were resting on solid ground.

In reality though, he was a good five or six feet above.

Keith could watch Lance do this all day.

As usual, Lance couldn’t just leave it at that, and flipped himself upside down. One leg bent until it dangled above hit head, his body forming an almost perfect C with the second leg bent in. His hands shook with the exertion, his breathing incredibly controlled despite it all, and Keith knew for sure that he was this close to having a heart attack. His chest was thudding so hard he thought it was trying to do its own acrobatic act. Lance was a sight to behold.

Keith wanted to be part of that.

 

* * *

 

 

“I wanna try.”

“Whoa there, what?” Lance held up his hands frantically.

He was back on the ground, finally tired out enough to stop showing off. Keith stood in front of him with the most hopeful look on his face.

Keith, i.e. the knife throwing _crazy person_ with a _death wish_ had really just asked if he could risk his neck, just to try out the silks. And yes, he'd specifically requested silks. He really was crazier than Lance had given him credit for. It was like the guy had something to prove.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why _not?”_ Keith pouted back, crossing his arms tightly.

Lance couldn’t believe this guy. Was he for real? He doubted Keith had stepped foot in a circus prior to his hiring three weeks ago, and now he wanted to be an honest to god acrobat. “Um, because you are going to get _super_ hurt if you do,” he answered, channeling his inner Mother Allura. “I’m talking, like, a broken neck or something.” He shook his head and wagged a sage finger in Keith’s face. “Listen,  I’ve been training on-and-off in aerial silks for _years_ now, and even I still need Allura to spot me.” Ouch. That one burned his pride a little as it came out. It was true, though. “I definitely wouldn’t recommend trying it without at _least_ a year of training.”

“I’m strong!” Keith insisted.

“I believe you,” said Lance, sincere. Even as he said it his eyes roamed from Keith’s face to his somewhat broad shoulders, the span of his chest covered in that red vest, thinking offhandedly that yeah, he was probably strong enough. Strong enough for Lance, anyway. With a cough, he blinked himself back to reality and added, “But you know that it takes a certain type of strength to be able to pull off silks and, y’know, survive.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughed nervously. He’d just realized that he still needed to learn the last couple moves to his new routine. The performance was in a week, and he felt nowhere near prepared. He caught the look on Keith’s face and Lance was snapped back to the present. “So uhh, yeah, definitely a No on that.”

It looked like Keith wasn’t going to be talked down.

“Please, Lance, I just wanna try. One time, that’s all I’m asking.”

With a perturbed frown Lance asked, “Keith… why do you want this so bad? It’s not like you’re getting the short end of the stick just because you have to watch instead of actually _do_ it.”

No response.

“Plus,” Lance felt the need to add, “it really isn’t as easy as I think that _you_ think it is. I don’t want you to be, uh…” he trailed off, feeling the heat of Keith’s gaze on him.

“Don’t want me to be what?”

Lance kicked himself for digging a bigger hole for himself in the first place. He should’ve just offered Keith a strict “NO” and been done with it. But now the ring was infuriatingly quiet, and Keith was still infuriatingly _here,_ and Lance was starting to wonder what he was getting himself into.

“...I just don’t want you to be embarrassed, okay?” Lance muttered quietly, not making eye contact. He swallowed. This was bound to annoy the hell out of Keith, but Lance wasn’t an idiot. He knew the risks.

A huff. Looking up, he saw a look of incredulity painting Keith’s face. “...Embarrassed?” Keith asked. After a moment had passed he laughed again, softly, and ran a hand through his hair like he wasn’t all that surprised. “ _T_ _hat’s_ what you’re worried about?” His eyes caught Lance’s and there was nothing there that said, ‘You’re right, I give up.’ Jesus, Keith was about as stubborn as they came.

Lance sighed.

He really, really needed to get back to practicing. “Look, Keith, I don’t know if now’s really the time-”

“When did _you_ start learning, anyway?”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh? What, you mean the silks?” he asked, perplexed when Keith looked down at the ground.

“No,” said Keith, “I just mean…” he made a vague gesture that may have been meant to encompass the entire tent, but Lance got the gist. “The performing. Like trapeze and everything.”

That had Lance taking a step back - mentally speaking, that is. On the outside, though, his expression was passive.

He knew he should’ve been proudly boasting about his incredible family of gifted performers, his original teachers and mentors, but for some reason the question registered as something much more personal. When did he start learning? He had no idea.

“From the time I learned how to walk, probably,” Lance said before he could take it back.

But then, something warm lit up in Keith’s eyes when he said that. “That young?”

Lance huffed, looking down at his toes. “It’s a uh, long story. Family business and stuff.”

“...Oh.” Keith sounded like he was trying to be understanding but couldn’t quite grasp what he was getting at.

Lance knew about Keith’s situation, of course. It was one of the first things he’d managed to pry out of him during one of their first pre-show, time-killing conversations. How Keith was an orphan who had lived with his adoptive brother for most of his life. But it hadn’t really registered until now - Keith had never really had a real family. Shiro sounded like he’d been a great brother and all, but it wasn’t exactly what Lance pictured when he thought about being at home.

But then, families came in all different shapes and sizes, didn’t they? Love was exactly like that.

“I just thought, maybe you could show me-”

“No.”

Lance felt horrible the minute it slipped out, but it was better to nip it in the bud now rather than let it go. If he got too attached, and word somehow got out, it would mean the end of his career.

“No?”

“Keith, I’m really sorry, but if you try anything without even a little training you’re going to get hurt. Or both of us will. It’s probably better if you just…” Lance sighed and tried not to sound like he was in pain. “Just… Yeah. No.”

Suddenly Keith was about five paces closer, leaving the edge of the ring behind. Damn, Lance didn’t know he could move that fast.

“What is your problem?” Keith asked angrily, getting right in his face.

“My problem?” Lance scoffed. When Keith tried to stare him down with those intense eyes of his, Lance refused to waver. “I don’t have a problem.”

“No, what is your problem with _me?”_ Keith jabbed a finger at himself to make his point.

“You’re the one crowding me here, buddy.”

“Sorry if I’m a little persistent, okay?” Keith practically growled, refusing to back off. “ _Forgive_ me for wanting to know what it’s like.”

“What?” Lance muttered, starting to see what Keith might be trying to say. “What it’s like to be bruised and sore all over from all the years of learning to actually do what it is I do? What it’s like to practice for so many hours you’ve lost count?” He took another breath before going on. He knew he was getting riled up, and this didn’t need to turn into an even bigger argument just because he was close to losing his cool. Losing his cool really wasn’t Lance’s thing. “Because I’ve got news for you-”

“-No.” Keith was staring at him like he’d lost his mind, and Lance suddenly drew a blank. Keith looked lost, too. A little desperate to be understood, maybe. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean… _Free._ Doing what you love,” he muttered. He seemed to consider whether or not this conversation was worth the trouble anymore. “Working for the thing you love most.” His eyes wandered over to the ropes and straps suspended from the ceiling, before they wandered back to Lance. He took another step closer. “ _That’s_ what I want.” Indigo eyes burned into his soul like purple flames.

By now, there was no denying that they were standing just a little too close together. Neither one made a move to go anywhere.

The ring was deathly silent.

“When I saw you that night,” Keith practically whispered, “performing and flying through the air like you were fucking _born_ for it, it made me start wonder what it would be like. To be able to do something like that every single day and be free and have fun and maybe- _maybe_ enjoy life for a change. You…” he bit his bottom lip before finishing. “You looked like you were having the time of your life up there,” he breathed, a tiny, secret smile on his face like he was picturing it. It made Lance’s heart pound. “I wanna know what that’s like. That's it.”

“Huh..” Lance didn’t know how to respond.

While Keith had been a little off on some things - like the whole “free to do whatever he wanted” part - Lance could confess, he appreciated what Keith was trying to say.

And also how close together they were.

He shouldn’t. This was already a bad idea.

“Keith...” Lance murmured, scratching the back of his head before he decided on a whim, what the hell? As long as he was careful not get… too invested. “Look,” a hint of caution, “I can show you an easy trick or two with the aerial straps and mayyybe the hoop, but no silks, okay?” He watched Keith for any sign of hesitation. “It’s just that if I let you try the silks and Allura catches me, I am so, so fired. And not gonna lie, you’d probably die. Or something.”

“So we’ll be careful,” Keith said. He sounded so confident that Lance felt himself melting into a puddle on the inside. His heart was happily agreeing. The logical part of him, on the other hand...

Most people who were new to acrobatics were adorably ambitious, if not extremely annoying and a little bit full of themselves. But Keith’s confidence and persistence were so strangely endearing that he wasn’t really giving Lance much of a choice here, was he?

“Fine,” Lance said before he could stop himself. He shook his head to clear it, before repeating, “ _Fine,_ all right, all right! I’ll show you a couple moves. But you have to follow every instruction to the letter, you got me?”

In an even bolder move, Keith crowded into what little space Lance had left and smirked, eyes hooded. They were so dark, those eyes, and Lance had already decided from the beginning that they were purple, no matter what Keith said. “Sounds more like you’ve got _me,”_ he whispered, catching Lance by surprise. It was the most forward he’d ever seen Keith.

This was the same flighty guy from costumes? The same man with the mysterious past and quiet persona backstage and mesmerizing eyes and….

He needed to stop thinking about Keith like this.

But Lance would be lying if he said that Keith wasn’t getting even more desirable by the second.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith would be lying if he said he wasn’t scaring himself a little.

Not that he _wasn’t_ interested in aerial stunts and crazy acrobatics, but what he’d just gotten himself into…. This wasn’t his game.

What was his game exactly?

He was interested in Lance, that was his game. He wanted Lance. If this was the only way to get to him, then that’s what he was going to do. Lance was friendly backstage, but he made a lot of jokes, almost seemed like he was trying to distance himself from Keith. Although Keith couldn’t understand why.

Or maybe he could, he just refused to admit it.

And so, that was how he found himself taking Lance’s outstretched hand before being led over to a couple of hanging ropes. He was really going to do this. With Lance.

“Just grab the rope like this,” Lance reached up to demonstrate, taking the rope in both hands with his arms close to his body, and gave a light tug. The rope responded by tugging him back up, so gently that it barely brought Lance to his tiptoes before he lowered himself back down. “Think you can handle that?”

Keith rolled his eyes at the jab and took the rope from Lance’s hands, accidentally brushing fingers with him.

Lance was a little too quick to pull his hand away, and Keith noticed. He tried to ignore it. “So I just pull?”

“You need to be holding onto the rope with both hands before you do anything.”

“Right.” He took the rope in both hands, holding tight. “Now?” he asked, searching for permission.

“Okay,” Lance said when he deemed Keith’s grip acceptable. “That should be fine. Now you’re gonna hold on tight, and it should be fine." He nodded. "All right, leterrip!”

That was all he needed. Keith tugged.

Then tugged a little harder because _geez,_ those weights on the other end really were heavy. But he got the desired effect, because he didn’t need to wait long for the rope to tug back, and _ouch._

Ropes fucking hurt.

But he held fast, and Keith looked down just in time to both watch and feel his feet lift off the ground. It was the wildest sensation. He didn’t mean to laugh as he sailed up at least six feet in the air but he did, filled with adrenaline and joy. It felt incredible. Impossible. Free. 

It felt right.

The burn in his triceps, however, did not.

The descent felt a little too slow once Keith began to register the burn that accompanied holding his body weight up in the air with nothing but his arms. Plus, the rope was truly starting to hurt his hands, and he wasn’t into that.

A few more moments of dangling like a dead weight, his feet finally hit the ground.

 

He heard Lance snort. Oh, just perfect.

“Very graceful,” Lance joked. “How’d that feel?”

Ignoring the amount of exertion it had taken to keep himself from falling, Keith thought it was pretty amazing. “It was good,” he said, a little out of breath. “Great, actually. I’d try again if my hands weren’t currently burning like hell.” He held up his palms - already red - for emphasis. "Gloves would've been nice."

“Ahh, yeah,” Lance laughed, nodding thoughtfully, “That part definitely takes some getting used to.”

“Do you think I could get any higher than that?”

“Sure,” Lance said with a shrug of his shoulders. “With a little practice. I think I can get up past the balcony seats on a good day, but it might take a couple of tries for you.”

“I wanna go that high," Keith said immediately.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that yet.”

“But _you_ are," Keith pointed out.

“Uhhh yeah? So?”

“So, take me up.”

Lance paused.

“...Keith-”

“Please, Lance?” Keith put on his best pleading look, wide eyed with bated breath.

He knew he had him now.

"Yeah," Lance agreed reluctantly. "Yeah, sure." Something changed in him then.

There was something different, a sort of spark in his eyes that Keith didn't miss but couldn't place. He stepped forward, reached out and grabbed Keith's hand for the second time that morning, pulling him close enough that Keith could smell sweat and something musky and indiscernible.

"But you can't let go," he murmured. His expression was firm but something... something else twinkled in those bright blue eyes.

Keith's breath hitched in his throat. "Never," was all he could say.

He didn't have to wait long before Lance's arm was circling around his waist, gentle at first. But then there was pressure as he held Keith tightly enough that it was just shy of uncomfortable, and reached out to snag the closest rope. "I got you."

Then he tugged with all his might, and the both of them shot up into the air.

It was faster than Keith had gone.  _Higher._ It felt too fast and Keith tried not to be sick, instead forcing any thoughts of vertigo out of his head in lieu of savoring the feeling that so resembled flight. If the first time had been great, the second time was nothing short of magical. Keith didn't know what came over him in the moments when they flew through the air like fireworks being set free, but he  _whooped,_ just like Lance had, and laughed a laugh more high-pitched than normal, bordering on hysterical. They were flying.

They were together, so close and so tightly intertwined.

 

And then Lance fucking let go.

Keith had no clue what the hell Lance was trying to do, but there wasn’t much that could be done when you were careening high above the ground with nothing but another body to hold onto. And boy did he cling to Lance like his life damn well depended on it.

Which it probably did.

“Don’t worry,” he swore he heard Lance say into his ear. Keith’s head whipped around from the ground below to Lance, who was right there, so close, incredibly close, and the air was rushing past them as they reached the highest point of ascent, braced in that brief moment of slowness, and then they fell.

Nose to nose, they clung to one another tightly as one of Lance’s hands shot out, just in time to catch them both on the rope before they could hurtle to the ground below.

Keith didn’t realize he’d been squeezing his eyes shut until he actually opened them. He looked down.

The ground loomed below, at least ten feet from where they swung in the air together. Even if Keith were to jump from here, he’d still be risking a broken ankle or worse. Eyes widening, he looked back up.

Lance’s eyes were already there. He was grinning, and just when Keith thought he couldn’t get more beautiful, laughter bubbled up from Lance’s chest, genuine and breathless and incredibly soft. The crinkle in his eyes felt like something very private, something he’d been saving just for Keith to see.

“How was that?” Lance asked. It was clear from the strain in his voice that holding both his weight and Keith’s with just one hand around the rope was getting to be a bit too much, but he was smiling anyway. The rope was taking its time to go back down, it must have been hurting just to keep the two of them up for so long after a fall like that.

Keith stuttered for a second, feeling his face flush deeply. They were so close, their chests pressed together, Lance's left arm still securely around Keith's waist, both of Keith's arms around Lance's waist, and their legs hooked together. The rope finally caught onto the fact that there were two bodies weighing it down and finally decided to descend. Their off-balanced weight made them spin slowly on the way down, but nothing they couldn't handle.

The time passed in oddly the same way that time had passed when Keith saw Lance on the trapeze that first night. Even slower. Quiet. Special. Lance's mouth was open like he was about to say something, and if Keith leaned in just a little further he could...

 

The moment their feet touched down, a throat cleared from off to the sidelines.

It wasn’t Keith.

It wasn’t Lance, either.

Startled, both turned their heads at the same time - and found Allura staring back up at them, hands on her hips. There was worry in her eyes and her lips were pressed so tightly together they were nearly white.

“I should’ve known it wouldn’t end well if I gave either of you so much as an inch,” she muttered, sounding like she was saying it more for herself than for the two of them. “Lance, is this whatyou've you been doing all this time?” She stuck a thumb out towards Keith, although it could have been aimed at either of them considering how close they still were. The look on her face was a question waiting to be answered.

As soon as he realized that they were still clinging fast to each other, Lance quickly unwrapped his arm from Keith's torso and stepped back. Keith already hated the empty space he left between them. "N-Nothing," Lance said. "I mean no. No, I've been practicing, swear to god."

"Of course you have," Allura said evenly.

Keith bit his lip and turned away, silently panicking on the inside.

How could being so far gone, so in _love_ with someone hurt so much?

"Allura, I swear it's nothing-"

"Right," Allura said. Instead of threatening to tell someone, though, she did something rather odd.

First she stared at Lance, expression so full of disappointment and worry, but then quietly, like a request instead of a command, she murmured, "Just please... please, be careful."

Keith's mouth fell open but by the time he looked around, Allura had already turned on her heel, showing herself out.

Just like that, she was gone.

 

The silence that followed was deafening. Keith looked stunned when he finally looked back at Lance.

“Guess I’d better go get Pidge and, um. Y-Yeah.” Lance said weakly, not entirely sure where he’d been meaning to go with that. Then he caught the look on Keith’s face.

Still stunned, but determined as well. His eyes were only for Lance. In fact, something about that expression was beckoning Lance to step closer.

He shouldn’t.

Should. Not.

But here they were, just a few feet apart and no one stopping them.

“Lance…” Keith breathed, stepping forward to close some of the distance. Lance was already meeting him halfway, and he hated that he was.

"You heard Allura," Lance said.

"Allura didn't tell us we couldn't be together, Lance. And you and I both know that that's exactly what both of us have wanted for a while now."

Lance felt pain behind his ribcage, an ache so persistent that it was becoming impossible to ignore. "And when we step outside from within these walls, we're both going to wake up and see how hopeless all of this is, don't you get it?"

Keith's laugh in response was bitter and just as full of pain. "It doesn't matter what they think," he breathed as a hand found its way to the front of Lance's shirt, where it balled up the fabric and pulled, just a little. "I know you feel it too. You and I... We were made for each other."

"It's not in the stars, Keith," Lance tried to joke, but it was halfhearted. Scratch that - it was sad. Already void of hope.

" _No,"_ Keith insisted with another pull of the fabric. When Lance looked down, Keith released his grip. He didn't move away, though. "I want you, Lance. It's not a secret. It shouldn't have to be."

He was making some really good points there.

And now the ache in Lance's chest was completely impossible to ignore.

“God help me,” Lance groaned, and wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck, pulling him close so that their noses bumped together. Hot breath intermingled with the sound of breathing heavier than was normal for either of them. “Can- Can I…?”

“Please,” Keith breathed as he gave the barest nod, nose brushing against Lance’s. “Please, Lance. Go ahead.”

Lance kissed him. Gentle, barely opening his mouth as they collided, fitting like those perfect puzzle pieces. 

It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen, for the two of them to become rougher with each other, desperate, maybe because they both knew what it was going to be like the moment they stepped outside this tent. The moment someone realized.

But it was worth it. It had to be.

“N-No one can know about this,” Lance panted as soon as he got another chance to breathe.

“So we’ll be careful,” Keith answered softly, bringing a hand up to cup Lance’s cheek. The frantic, open-mouthed kissing was brought to a standstill. “We can make this work.”

“It’s going to be a big risk.” Even as he said it, Lance knew he didn’t care enough to take his own advice. He’d had his window of opportunity to stop this before it could go anywhere, and he’d missed it. And he was starting to realize that he was okay with that.

“I want to take that risk,” Keith answered, and pulled him in again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think, or just pop by in the comments or on my tumblr for a chat. Sending many many hugs :) (This is completed btw, I really don't have the time in my schedule to add any more)
> 
> Also, apparently silks are actually fairly easy to do, as someone mentioned, so just suspend your disbelief since A) it's fiction that was written in under 2 days with next to no research and B) it's a lil too late to change it now. Thanks guys!

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdjR2lvIfJ4
> 
>  https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qfGyQkc-9Oc
> 
> Please don't be afraid to leave comments or hmu on my [tumblr](http://animationfanatic.tumblr.com/)! I really love hearing from people.


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